Bruise Pristine
by EvelynEvelyn
Summary: "It's your fault; you made me do it" What if Frank never left after attacking Carla?
1. Chapter 1

_Hey everyone! So, this is my first ever FF :3 After years of reading, thought I'd have my go at writing. Be kind with reviews, hopefully this isn't to horrendous! I'll be sure to continue it, when I have time. _

_Chapter 1_

The anger that had manifested inside Frank Foster was uncomprehendable. A simultaneously aching and stabbing feeling that originated at a point deep within him and snaked merciless tendrils to his heart. The pinnacle of his anger reached its peak, the moment he realized Carla was in love with Peter Barlow. She'd made a mockery of him, injured his pride-so he in turn returned the favour. And there had been something surprisingly satisfying about it, it was possibly even more enjoyable this way, than any time she'd given consent. Breaking the strong woman that she was- the _'queen bitch'_ had met her match. Unable to resist, he smirked at the thought, zipping up his trousers

From where he stood he could see that she was shaking, gripping at her torn blouse. Her bare legs bent, so in the foetal position. And for some reason he felt a tiny pang of guilt, the smirk vanished off his face. Indifferently, he broke the silence

"It's your fault; you made me do it"

Carla showed no reaction, her stare was blank and unseeing. Dark hair clung to her forehead, where a thin layer of sweat had formed. She didn't know how to feel, what to do. The sensation of helplessness washed over her, and she didn't like it. Carla was not a victim, she was a warrior-something like this couldn't happen to the likes of her. This was all she could think, and then she heard him shift. Instantly, she tried to make herself disappear, raising her knees higher, so they almost touched her chin. Not daring to look up at the man who'd broken her.

As he leaned closer, or made a move to- he saw how she began to panic. Once again hit with the feeling of both satisfaction and also regret. Gone was the earlier smirk, replaced with a look that almost could be mistaken for concern.

"Carla.." he tried again, his voice quitter- it almost sounded like a question. He let the word hang in the air for a few seconds, before suddenly turning around and heading for the door.

But just as he was about to open it and make his escape, he heard a desperate sob. Unable to contain it in any longer, Carla had let the wall around her crumble. The hand that'd been holding her legs up was now over her mouth. As she tried in vain to be quiet, not wanting to show anymore weakness in front of Frank.

The sound had snapped him out of his momentary panic, slowly he turned around. He couldn't just leave, that's what she wanted. The moment he was out the door she would be on the phone to the police, or even worse that alci boyfriend of hers. And anyway he had done nothing wrong, it was her fault, she'd pushed him into it. Playing away behind his back, making out that she loved him when all the while he was being used. Letting his shoulders slump, he leant against the door. His eyes on her the whole time.

"You think I'm stupid don't you?" his tone was like ice, gone was the earlier concern "I'm not leaving you to get back with Peter , to ruin both our lives" Still, he wouldn't believe that she wasn't seeing Peter "You're mine, Carla"

Her breath hitched in her throat, eyes wide with terror. Not for the first time that evening, she felt hope drawing away. The creak of her lamented floor concluded this- and she was faced with Frank's knees. He had moved to crouch down next to her, and Carla did her best to push herself away. "No…please, Frank, leave me alone" the voice didn't sound like hers it was hoarse-almost pathetic. And once again, the man she thought she could trust ignored her.

"Carla, Carla,_Carla_" he muttered under his breath- using his hand to push away some hair from her face. He felt almost euphoric as she stiffened at his touch, yet still there was that niggling feeling of wanting her to want him.

"You know that _was_ your fault, I would never hurt you-I love you, much more than Peter ever could"

She wanted to be sick, how could he even claim to love her after he'd raped her. Not to mention having him in such close proximity was adding to her nausea. "Get _away_ from me" she hissed, that part of her that wanted to fight, seeping through. Yet, it was met with nothing more than a soft chuckle "You're so dramatic, but you know we could of had a life" he paused, shaking his head "What am I saying? We are still going to have a life together"

His hand trailed down to her arm, and as if hit with a surge of electricity, Carla began to struggle "I said GET AWAY FROM ME!" she screamed, shoving him so lost his balance. Carla then took this chance to crawl toward the kitchen counter. Pushing herself up so she was on her knees, she grabbed her mobile. Relief filled her as she began to dial, only to be disturbed by the feel of her hair being pulled. The sheer force caused her whole body to be yanked backward-her back meeting something solid. "No!" she breathed, as his other hand went for her already bruised wrist, squeezing it so tightly, the phone clinkered to the ground. All hope left her, even her surge of bravery. There was no fight left in her, and she began to cry uncontrollably.

"Shhh shh shhh" Frank cooed from behind her, lessening the grip on her tangled hair, now smoothing it softly "I'm never letting you out of my sight again, I will make you happy Carla" he held her closer "Whether you like it or not" he whispered into her ear. Vainly, Carla started to struggle again, just enough to move her head away from his, but she knew that she'd already lost the fight. Still, she found her thoughts on the only person she needed right now, _Peter._

_Ahhh, so anyway-that's my FF virginity taken, I hope it's worth it aha_

_R+R, Hopefully it's not to bad and I'll continue :3_


	2. Chapter 2

_Thanks to everyone who reviewed the fist chapter! I honestly didn't think anyone would._

_So, I couldn't resist updating! I might of rambled on here, blegh, it'll get more interesting I promise! Worringly I seem to be able to write from Frank's perspective with no problem, but not Peter and Carla's :'D Oh well_

_Also, seeing as I missed tonight's Corrie booo! I'm might start chapter 3, after watching it on itvplayer, seing 'Carter' always serves for inspiration :D_

_Chapter 2_

Momentarily, Peter's features were illuminated in the darkness, as he lit up a cigarette. Inhaling deeply, he ran a hand through his short hair. _"Because I don't love him..."_ Carla's earlier words rung through his head, he wasn't stupid, he'd known what she meant. Her next words had only clarified it further, it was all about him.

Taking another drag, he tried to make sense of it all in his mind. He was angry that she'd ended things with Frank- there was no doubt the minute Leanne heard about it, she'd spout off accusations again.

Frank was a decent man, surely Carla could of found something redeeming about him. Besides he'd seen the whiskey bottle, and watched her pour herself a glass, for all he knew she was already drunk. Yes, that had to be it- and once she'd sobered up she'd make it up with Frank, there'd be a wedding tomorrow.

Flicking the cigarette on the ground, he turned to go up the stairs to his flat. But paused on the threshold, still, he couldn't get _her_ out of his mind. He couldn't deny it; his heart had ached at the way she was in the factory. And he was torn between comforting her or not- he knew he hadn't handled it as well as he could of. Perhaps he should'nt of left her on her own, invited her to the flat for a coffee-or even gone with her back to hers. If she was drinking then it could get worse before it got better. Frowning, he looked up the stairs; where Leanne would be waiting. But the voice in the back of his head was willing him to go and see Carla, even if she had pushed him away-after all, this was all his fault.

"What you doing just standin' there?" Leanne's voice broke through his inner turmoil. She'd popped her head out the door at the top. An almost bemused expression on her face. Shaking his head, he smiled warmly up at his wife "Sorry Lee, remembered I need some more fags, I'll just pop to Dev's" he lied, hoping she believed him.

"Alright then, don't be too long-Simon wants you to cook spag bol for us" she chirped, oblivious to the fact that Peter had just deceived her. "Course love" he replied, turning to leave. He'd just go make sure Carla wasn't drinking herself into oblivion, _as a mate_, well, that's what he kept telling himself.

* * *

Closing her eyes, Carla tried to stay calm. But knew by the sound of her deep breaths she wasn't doing a good job at it. She tried to ignore the fact that Frank-_her rapist_, was holding her tightly to him. Her head was turned away, but she could feel him rest his own on her shoulder. A part of her was outraged, how could he just sit here like nothing had happened? What kind of man could stay there and act utterly content. Grimacing, she felt hot tears fall as she re-opened her eyes. Feeling his breath on her neck, she began to tremble once again. In turn, he, as if feeling her intrinsic revulsion for him, he drank it in, indulging in her disgust

"F..F..Frank…" she finally got it out, her voice trembling "Please, p…please _just_ go, I..I, won't say out' about this to anyone" she pleaded, hoping he'd show some small mercy towards her.

As she continued to tremble, Frank remained as he was. With his head on her shoulder, he took in the smell of her perfume. The scent itself would of made him feel weak at the knees, had he not already been on them. And then when she addressed him, there was no denying she was crying, from the crack in her voice. He felt stirrings of arousal at having her so weak. Not to mention, they way she stuttered at his name. His eyes rolled back in his head. Oh, and he chewed upon it. Savoring the essence in which it'd been spoken.

"Do you remember the last time you lied to me?" he sneered, even though she couldn't see it "An _no_ I don't mean about Peter Barlow" the sarcasm dripped from his mouth "I meant when you went to see Stella at the hospital" he pulled his head back, now kneeling behind her, bringing the grasped wrist with him, so he held It behind her back "You know after you nearly killed her" he added, unable to resist. "Well, with your track record I don't think I'll be trusting anything you say, for a while"

Swallowing a lump in her throat, Carla felt utterly hopeless, she just wanted to be left alone. "List-" she began, again trying to speak, but this time he cut her off, violently twisting her arm behind her back, causing her to cry out in pain. Once again her leaned into her ear "No, you, listen! I've given you everything, like I said I _still love you_, we can make this work. All the good times we had together, the way you looked at me- that wasn't acting" he tried not to shout, but the fact that she was still so clearly pining over some bookie, made his blood boil.

"It wasn't Frank, but that didn't give you the right to do what you just did!" she retaliated, in between sobs "You r..YOU RAPED ME!" she screamed, once again beginning to struggle, as if hearing the words out loud struck a cord. But no amount od struggling could stop him "Oh , Carla!" he said, amused, shaking his head "Are you sure about that? I mean you had some wine this afternoon didn't you? And we all know what that does to you, I think you've got things muddled up, again"

Carla couldn't stand the way he was making fun on her, undermining her, angrily she hissed under her breath "You're not right in the head" Seemingly unfazed, Frank didn't reply at first- just liked his dry lips, before replying darkly "Don't be like that, darling, I thought you liked it rough."

* * *

Arriving outside Carla's building, Peter began to have second thoughts about this. Maybe constantly going to her was just feeding the fire, making her even more dependant on him. Sighing, he knew he needed to stop doing this. So decided that after tonight, he wouldn't carry on-no matter what his heart said.


	3. Chapter 3

_Sorry about the typo's in the last chapter, I know there wasn't to much, but still bothered me, I've tried my best to go over this part more thoroughly :P And how amazing was Ali in last nights Corrie! Proper tugged at my heart strings hah :'D_

_Again, I know the pace of this story is slow, but I have 2 or 3 different ideas about how it could go, I'll of decided by the next chapter, so things will pick up :D_

_Chapter 3_

Once at the door, Peter braced himself, for what he was sure to be a very drunk Carla. He knocked twice, before calling out "Carla, it's me Peter-can you let me in please love?"

Both figures inside the flat paused, as if the voice outside had caused everything to go into slow motion. But Frank quickly came back down to reality, clamping his hand over Carla's mouth, who was just about to scream for help. Frantically she began to struggle, her cried for help were muffled behind his hand. She needed Peter to hear something-anything.

"_No,Carla_" Frank hissed into her ear, as she tried to turn around and claw at his face with her free hand. The familiar feeling of panic swept over him. Again, Peter could ruin any chance of a happy life for him and Carla. Struggling to keep Carla still and quiet, he glanced over his shoulder- willing Peter to go away.

"Look Carla, I'm not leaving until I at least see that you're okay-I saw Frank's car outside, have you spoken to him?"

Hearing his name mentioned, caused Frank to almost snarl- not to mention the fact that Peter wasn't going anywhere. As his frustration built, he felt the need to let it all burst out of him. Again, Carla was the nearest person to vent out his anger on. Without thinking, he pulled her head back, and then slammed her forehead on the front of the kitchen counter top. Immediately her struggling ceased, and she slipped out of consciousness.

Now, slumped over forward, her pulled her, up with him, before adjusting so her was carrying her bridal style- the irony didn't fail to hit him. Carrying her to the sofa, he gently placed her down. Although he was in a hurry, he couldn't help but stop, and stare down at the beautiful woman lying there so fragile. There wasn't so much as a cut on her head, and she shallow breaths proved he hadn't killed her, at least.

His eyes trailed down from her face to her front, all the buttons from her expensive almost see through blouse opened, he admired the soft curve of her breasts-the way the black material of her bra clung to them, almost seductively. Once again, he wanted her-

"CARLA!' Peter shouted for outside, causing Frank to jump up. Clenching his fists, he walked to the door, pausing, he put the chain on quietly. So when he ifinally/i opened the door, it wasn't by much.

"Peter!" He greeted cheerfully, through the gap "Listen, you've caught me and Carla at _a bad time_" With all the ease in the world, he kept up his façade, hoping Peter would get the hint.

"Right,well I..uh" his eyes narrowed on the chain, then back up to Frank "I just came to see if Carla was all right, she told me happened today" He continued, still itching to see her, and make sure everything was as it should be.

"Ah, right, yeah- well it was nothing, pre wedding nerves _that's all_" Shifting slightly, using his arm to lean on the wall next to the door, he motioned his head towards he gap in which they spoke "That's what _this_ is all about actually" he leaned closer, as if he was about to reveal a secret "We were just _making up_, you know" he smirked "She wouldn't be pleased if I let you see her, right now" Again, he hoped Peter would get the hint "But I'll tell her you called"

For some reason, Peter didn't feel right about any of this. There was something eerie about the way Frank's smiles and calm gestures, never reached his eyes.

"Still, if it's all the same to you, I'd just like to see her for myself" Defiantly, Peter refused to leave. Just a glimpse of her would satisfy any worries he had.

Meanwhile on the sofa, Carla began to stir, though she didn't get up. Her head hammered, any peacefulness on her face quickly left. Instead she help a pained expression, until all of a sudden she was sure she could hear voices-one of them being Peter's. Disorientated, she tried to call out for him, but found her lungs clammed up.

With an expression of mock outrage, Frank raised his eyebrows "Look Peter, I understand you two have a past, but it gives you nor right, _no right_ , to come here acting as if I've done something wrong, besides I don't think Leanne would appreciate it, you being here I mean" He finished, knowing by his stance that he was in a hurry-lying to Leanne, again.

And from that tiny reminder, Peter bowed his head placing his hands in his jean pockets. Perhaps he was over reacting, besides Carla wasn't his problem anymore, not that he ever saw her as a problem.

"Yeah listen mate" he began "I'm sorry, I was just worried- she was in a bit of a state-just tell her I was here" He smiled, running to leave. But after a few steps, he turned around and called over, walking backwards "Oh and hey, good luck with the big day tomorrow!" He tried to sound happy, but for some reason he wasn't capable of being happy about Carla's impending marriage. Frank gave a wiry grin, nodding in Peter's direction, before closing the door.

With that, Peter remained where he was for a few seconds. As if finally realizing what it would mean once Carla was married. Things would change drastically when Frank was not just the boyfriend but the husband instead. Frowning, he felt a feeling of dread wash over him, and the strange urge to barge the door down and see Carla.

Releasing a deep sigh, he slumped his shoulders-what was going on? Why was he so concerned about how his relationship with Carla was going to change? Wasn't that what he wanted anyway? He'd been going on to her about if for months, about how it would be a good thing. Deciding to try and push it to the back of his mind, he turned and walked down the stairs. Trying to ignore the fact that he didn't really want to go back to Leanne.

* * *

Behind the door, Frank had his ear pressed to it. Listening out for when Peter actually left. Knowing that the bookie would probably stay for a while, maybe even have the nerve to spy on them. Once he heard his footsteps descending, Franks pushed himself from the door, sighing with relief.

Stirring on the sofa, her mind still slightly fuzzy, Carla mumbled incoherently under her breath. The sound itself meant that Frank was by her side in an instant. Kneeling near the side of the sofa, in front of her. Again, her beauty captivated him. He'd often watch her sleep, even when well before _this_ – had happened. Mesmerized by her peacefulness, how when asleep all of her defences, the hard front she wore was down. Smiling, he reached out to stroke her face, in turn she reacted to it-pressing her cheek closer to his palm. Naively, he began to think that perhaps she was starting to see things his way-but then was reminded of her state when she softly whispered "_Peter…_"

The name caused his face to darken, the smile disappeared, and his hand froze. Thinking back to what the man had said about their wedding, he knew he had to get them away from here. Or something, the inner workings of his mind turned, while the hand on her cheek, began to lower to her neck, tightening slightly. Not enough to strangle her, but enough to cause her to feel that something was wrong, and snapped her eyes opened. The mere scent of the flat, and throbbing pain between her legs, reminded her what had happened.

Seeing that she'd woken up-well was trying t wake, he sneered smugly "No, not Peter-the other man in your life" he shook his head, then felt her begin to tremble again. And as the panic surged through her, she found herself drifting in and out of consciousness, but there wasn't even peace in that- as she saw flashes of her attack.

The way he pinned her to the floor, before pushing her down on the ground-and how she'd begged, screamed at him to stop- but he hadn't listened. Rendered her to nothing more than a rag doll, _his ragdoll._


	4. Chapter 4

_Not to sure if I like this chapter, let me know what you think. _

_And for those who asked I do have a twitter but tend to keep it just for close friends and family, nothing personal-but I might make another one specifically for you guys :D_

_Chapter 4_

As Carla succumbed back into the dark haze of unconsciousness, Frank continued to feed his obsession with her. It was only now, in his head of course, could her actually admit to himself that he had been and still was, utterly infatuated by her. There was no clear answer as to when it had happened, even before their relationship begun he'd found himself lusting for her. When he'd taken her home after she'd drank to much it had took all the self control he had not to return her drunken kiss, although he did find himself responding for a mili second. And then when her came in with a blanket, her state of perfection in slumber had shaken him. It was then he'd taken in her beauty for the first time and indulged on her flawless face.

Desperately he tried to compare then to now, as he watched; but would never be the same. Now, even unconscious, her brows frowned, she wasn't the peaceful sleeping beauty she had been once, not anymore.

For a brief second that familiar pang of guilt swept over him. He was torn between being proud of bringing down the in-destructible Carla Connor and regretful that he knew she would never be the same person again, it was if he was mourning her; _He had thrown the ice queen into the fire. _He'd taken away her peace, even her empathy- this deep down, he knew, even if she didn't yet.

Unable to stand it, Frank once again shot up to his feet. Turning away and storming to the kitchen area. He couldn't bare to look at her anymore, nor to let himself slip into his mournful thoughts. Briefly he wondered could he make her pure again? Make her clean- undo what had already been done. Shanking his head, Frank pressed his head against one of the cabinets. His thoughts were borderline on the deranged, and even he could see it.

"Deep breaths" he whispered to himself, calming down. Once he was sure that any thought of pity had left his mind, he dared a glance in her direction. Only to catch sight of the wedding dress hanging on the bedroom door first. Again, he couldn't stand it, pushing away from the kitchen and heading to the bathroom.

* * *

Even now _Frank_ took over in her mind. And she knew he would forever. Like a nightmare that resurfaced to let her wake. And then she tried to forget, thinking about another man-_Peter_. Immersing herself in fantasy-drifting in and out of reality. The unrelenting craving for closeness, with a man she considered her backbone, took over. As if feeling her intrinsic love for him, she drank it in, succumbing to her addiction.

Undoubtedly, she would of remained in her trance like state for hours had it not been the loud noise of a door being slammed.

Immediately, but regrettably, she was pulled away from her thoughts, dark eyes snapping open. Her mouth was slightly ajar, her breathing heavy-as she tried to remain still. Trying to get her senses back, so not to slip away again. The only sound she could her was her own breathing, was he gone? Slowly she sat up on the sofa, wincing as the pain between her legs intensified with every movement. Her face covered in mascara, she turned around, looking at very corner in her flat-he was nowhere. Or so she thought, shivering as paronoia kicked in. What if he was hiding? Waiting to pounce on her again. Hit again by violent trembling, she saw the phone on the ground, behind the sofa. He mind screamed at her to go for it, but her body wouldn't move; paralyzed with fear. She hated this kind of weakness; she hated herself for letting all this happen.

* * *

In that bathroom, Frank paced back and forth. Trying to determine the next move, he loved Carla, and what had happened that evening was regrettable, yes- but not entirely his fault. What had she expected? Humiliating him like that? Angrily he kicked the glass of the shower door, though it didn't break. Then his ears picked up on a scream from the other room, looking at the shower, then the door- he grinned.

The sound had caused Carla to scream, jumping backwards; she'd fallen on the ground with a sickening thud. Panic took over as she realized he was still there, that her paranoia hadn't been unjust. As if it clarify it further, the bathroom door opened and in stepped a smirking Frank. Backing away on the ground, she shook her head "No, I told you to go!... _GET AWAY FROM ME FRANK_!" She shouted, until her back hit the wall. Ignoring her pleas, Frank walked right to where she was cowering n the ground.

"Darling, what's all this about?" he asked innocently "You look a state, why me run you a nice shower? Then we can discuss what to do?" Eyed widening, she couldn't believe her ears-he was acting as if nothing had happened, was this some sick game? A final stab in the back. But Frank new exactly what he was doing, first he needed to get rid of any evidence of rape off of her, just incase things didn't go to plan- and he already knew it wouldn't be easy. Then his options could open up, he knew the wedding couldn't happen, but that didn't mean their life together was over, far from it; he would make her love him again-away from weatherfield and the likes of Peter Barlow. And even if she couldn't love him, he wasn't going to let her go. Even before he'd attacked her, he knew that his lust and love for her wasn't the only reason he wanted her as a wife, he wanted to control her.


End file.
